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king-brian-may · 6 years

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Queen Fans Share Their Stories

Queen in Landover, MD, USA on 29.11.1977 (written by Tracy Chevalier)

In a new book, writers recall the best gigs they have seen. Here the novelist Tracy Chevalier describes her memorable night with Queen.

It started with a champagne toast and ended with a limo pulling away into the night. In between these two gestures symbolising glamour and sophistication, I lost my virginity. Not in the technical sense (that would take another few years), but in other ways. At my first ever rock concert — going with four friends to see Queen at the Capital Centre in November 1977 — I got an eye-opening peek at elements of the adult world, with its power and its limitations, its glittering artifice and dirty reality, and it demonstrated how little I knew and how much I had yet to learn about life.

I was ripe for it; overdue, really. I had turned 15 the month before the concert, and though people thought I looked older than I was, I was remarkably naive and unworldly at that age. Despite a few character-building events in my childhood — the death of my mother when I was almost 8, the experience of being a minority in DC public schools — I was so unsophisticated, so unaware of the world, that I didn't even realise Queen was an English band until the lead singer Freddie Mercury appeared in a tight white catsuit on stage at the Capital Centre, raised a glass of champagne at 18,000 screaming fans, and toasted us with "Good evening, Washington" in a fruity English accent. I was stunned. Then I started screaming.

I had been a Queen fan for a couple of years by then. A Night at the Opera was the first LP I bought, and I could sing every word of every song. I don't remember how I was introduced to Queen — though I do remember hearing their biggest hit, Bohemian Rhapsody, on the radio and being impressed by its audacity. It sure beat the hell out of the Beatles, Bob Dylan and Neil Young, which had been my older sister's staple music diet. By 14, I was writing Queen lyrics on the desk where I sat for algebra class, swapping them back and forth with a boy I had a crush on, and daydreaming of guitarist Brian May kissing me.

The concert was part of Queen's News of the World tour. While not a great album, especially after the double whammy of A Night at the Opera and its follow-up, A Day at the Races, it did produce two of their best-known songs, We Will Rock You and We are the Champions, which drop-kicked them firmly into stadium anthem territory. Appropriately, the concert began with the lights going down and the primitive, effective, impossible-not-to-join-in-with BOOM-BOOM-CHI, BOOM-BOOM-CHI, BOOM-BOOM-CHI intro to We Will Rock You rolling over the audience. Everyone immediately jumped up out of their seats and began to stomp and clap along. I, too, stood and stomped and clapped, watching in awe as people began flicking their Bic lighters, a gesture I had never seen before. What, were they going to set light to something? I had tried not to act surprised earlier when people nearby started smoking grass in public, but now was there going to be a riot? What other illegal things would go on that night? Then a spotlight picked out Freddie Mercury, who began to sing, "Buddy you're a boy, make a big noise, playin' in the street, gonna be a big man someday..." and I thought, "Jesus H. Christ, that is the loudest noise I've ever heard! Is that legal?" The wall of sound terrified me, and I wanted to cover my ears, but I didn't dare, as it would have been a very uncool thing to do. I think I looked around for the exit, wondering how many people I would have to climb over to escape the sound. It was just so goddamned loud — exhilarating, yes, but painful, too, dangerous and overwhelming. I wavered between loving it and hating it, but knew it would be uncool to hate it, so I'd better try to love it.

Towards the end of the song the single note of an electric guitar began to hum louder and louder under the chorus we were all singing and shouting, and Brian May stepped into the light to add his distinctive sound, ending We Will Rock You with low, long-sustain, three-part harmony chords, overlaid with a high melody he made fuzzy and metallic by using a coin as a guitar pick. I adored Brian May. He was the reserved, straight guy (literally) to Freddie Mercury's camp high jinks — tall, dark, good-looking, with long curly hair and a melancholy pensiveness that made every teenage girl want to comfort him. At this concert he was wearing a silvery white jacket with long, pleated wing sleeves; that combined with his mop of curls should have made him look effeminate, but instead he was deeply sexy.

I loved Freddie, too, for his outrageous antics, his riskiness, his joy at performing and glorious indifference to how ridiculous he looked wearing glittery leotard jumpsuits, eyeliner and a mullet, prancing and strutting and posing, twitching his hips, smacking his lips and otherwise hamming it up. But even without being conscious of Freddie's sexual preference — I hadn't yet met anyone who was openly gay — I instinctively sensed he was not to be lusted after. For all his extrovert, welcoming stage presence, he was clearly playing a part, which served to hold us at arm's length; whereas Brian May's taciturn moodiness was clearly himself served up raw.

Thank God for Freddie, though. Without him, no one would have moved on stage: Brian May was not a dancer, John Deacon, in time-honoured bassist tradition, stood solidly in one place throughout, and Roger Taylor was trapped by his drum kit.

To set us at our ease, after We Will Rock You Freddie toasted us with a glass of champagne — "Moet et Chandon, of course," after the reference in the hit Killer Queen. My friends and I heard this and screamed and clutched one another. He mentioned Moet et Chandon! That was our champagne! He was acknowledging us! I swear he made eye contact with me, 200 yards away and over the heads of thousands.

For we had done what we thought was the most original and extravagant gesture (for 15-year-olds) a fan could make: we had sent a bottle of champagne backstage. We'd pooled our money and gotten an older sister to buy it for us — the same sister who had been obliged to drive us all the way to the Capital Centre, smirking at our overexcited fandom. We'd even made our way to the stage door down a loading dock at the back of the arena and reluctantly handed over the precious bottle to a bored roadie, who said he would take it to the band. We'd had our doubts about his reliability, and his jadedness had dampened our enthusiasm a bit: had we really blown all that money — $20, which in those days meant 20 hours of babysitting — to have some unshaven jerk with a beer belly swill the precious liquid? But clearly the roadie had pulled through for us, for there was our champagne in Freddie Mercury's hand, and he was referring to Moet et Chandon in his pretty cabinet, the lyrics we had so cleverly quoted in the note we sent along with the bottle. We were sure we — among the many thousands — had managed to get through to the band.

If we had bothered to look around rather than feast our eyes on Brian and Freddie (I'm afraid John Deacon and Roger Taylor never got a look-in from me), we probably would have seen other clusters of fans also screaming and clutching one another during Freddie's toast. But we didn't look around or harbour doubts, or we ignored them. It was only much later that I allowed myself to consider the veritable champagne lake that must have existed backstage at every Queen concert. Tip to rock stars: want a free truckload of champagne wherever you go? Sing a song that mentions some — preferably name-checking a more expensive brand to ensure better quality — and watch it pour in backstage every night from adoring fans. There must have been a hundred bottles from fans back there, not counting the stash the band may well have brought with them in case Portland or Houston or Detroit weren't so generous. No wonder that roadie looked so bored — he'd probably been put on champagne duty that night.

Freddie's toast worked its magic, though, giving me the connection I needed to negotiate a place within the strangeness of the concertgoing experience itself: the weird, scary power of a crowd; the mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment at collective participation; the physical discomfort of standing for two hours when there's a perfectly comfortable seat behind you. It is one of those tricky, unresolved tensions at concerts: are we there to listen to the music or actively respond to it, participate as a group or answer our needs as individuals? It's an issue I've never entirely resolved — from Queen onwards I have spent concerts going in and out of myself, losing myself to the music and spectacle one minute, the next minute overly conscious of myself clapping or singing or screaming, and wondering why concerts have to be such an uncomfortable physical ordeal.

I was taken aback by the sound of Queen's music live: not just the volume, but the familiarity and also the strange rawness of the songs. Studio albums have all the mistakes airbrushed out, the layers added in, the balance between players carefully calibrated, like clever dialogue in a play without the awkward pauses and unfinished conversations you get in real life. Queen albums were highly produced, multi-layered affairs. Live, the music was necessarily stripped of a lot of the choral mixing, more raucous, simpler and much messier.

The band wisely didn't dare attempt to reproduce in its entirety the long, baroque confection that is Bohemian Rhapsody. For the infamous operatic middle section, the band members left the stage as the studio recording played. Freddie and Brian then changed costume, and, at the word "Beelzebub", all four men popped out of a door in the stage floor and joined live again for the heavy metal section, fireworks going off, dry ice pouring out, everyone going berserk, me in tears of excitement. It was one of the best live moments I've ever witnessed. Indeed, I was spoiled by seeing Queen play live before anyone else; for sheer exuberant theatricality, no one else has come close.

The concert ended with an instrumental version of God Save the Queen and once more the flicking of the Bics, which, no longer the virgin concertgoer, I understood now as a gesture of tribute. My friends and I weren't finished, though. Emboldened by Freddie's toast, we decided to go to the stage entrance again and say hello. I still choke with embarrassment when I think of it. When we got there, a black limousine was pulling away, our heroes and their entourage inside, and we were left with the detritus: older, dolled-up, hard-bitten groupies who had followed the band around and not made this night's cut. I stared at one, at her long, bleach-blond hair, her miniskirt, her bright red lipstick. She glared at me briefly; then her face went slack as she dismissed the idea of me being any sort of competition. In fact, I had not really taken in that there was a competition, that the girls (and I?) were here to spread our wares and catch the attention of one of the men, and then . . . And then? I hadn't thought it through at all. I wouldn't have known what to do with such a man as Brian May if he even so much as looked at me. All I knew was that I was way, way out of my depth, that even if I had eluded the roadie minding the door, there was no way I was ever going to get past a woman like this.

#Queen #bohemian rhapsody #Brian May #guitar #rockstar #roger taylor #freddie mercury #John Deacon #brian may is my king #marvelous

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the-barrens-are-ours · 7 years

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Happy Holidays!

Hope you have an amazing holiday season @galactiglitter

Here’s some Stanlon from your Secret Santa, hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: About 5,800

Warnings: Mentions of violence, suicide, death

It was times like these where he just needed to remind himself of the good times.

To let himself drown in the memories of sunny days, blissful hours, and best friends. Of the time they spent running barefoot through the Kenduskeag, lighting off fireworks, and whispering late into the night on starry evenings. Of the times they had laughed, of the times they had smiled, and of the times they had cried.

It was times like these where Mike Hanlon was desperate for any memory of something strong enough to distract him from the harrowing pain of loss.

Though, it was also times like these where he sometimes wondered if drowning in the past was even any better. Maybe what he need was to simply forget everything. To wipe the slate clean and pretend as though nothing had ever happened, as though nothing had ever even been there, to begin with.

‘But he had been there,’ Mike thinks, ‘he was there and he changed your life. Don’t you dare forget him, you coward.’

Of course, Mike knows the thought of being able to control what he can and can’t forget is soon to be out of his hands. Afterall, he just first hand witnessed the impact It had on the memories of his friends.Still, the thought of one day not being able to remember just who he was to Mike leaves his mind reeling with uncertainty and his stomach feeling sick. He doesn’t want to forget his best friend, but he doesn’t know how he could possibly live with this pain. Even though it was twenty-seven years ago that it happened, in the memory in Mike’s mind it still feels like it was only yesterday that Stanley Uris had first spoken to him...

“You want to shoot off some firecrackers?”

Despite everything that had just happened to him, being hunted down by Henry, chased through a junkyard, and having to fight off the scariest gang of kids in town with rocks, Mike couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips at the other boy’s words. His body was tired, sore, and ached more deeply than the could remember, yet he’s never felt better.

Here these six kids were, bruised, cut, and bloodied because they stood up for Mike and protected him, without even knowing his name. Mike felt oddly honored. He felt welcomed.

The boy cracked a smile when he saw how widely Mike was grinning back at him. He stuck out his hand to Mike. “I’m Stan. Stanley Uris. A pleasure to meet you.”

Mike grabbed his hand firmly and shook it. “Mike Hanlon. And trust me when I say the pleasure is all mine. If you hadn’t been there for me, Henry Bowers would have had my guts for garters.” Mike looked at the other kids standing around Stan. “Thank you, all of you, really.”

Another boy laughed. He had curly black hair and was putting an obnoxious pair of glasses on his face. Mike recognizes him as Richie Tozier. He remembers that he talked to him once, and it was a very odd experience, to say the least. “ Ah, don’t worry about it, kid. Any excuse to turn the table on Henry and kick his ass for once is fine by me.”

Mike looked back over at the kids, seeing how injured they were. “You didn’t need to get hurt for me though. I’m sorry about that.”

The girl with red hair glanced down at the cut on her arm and shrugged. “We’ll heal. Everything we got is way less than what you’d have gotten if Henry got you, anyways. This ain’t so bad.”

Mike glanced at Stan with a look of uncertainty. Stan just gave him a reassuring smile in return. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, that’s what friends are for.”

He froze.

‘Friends,’ Mike couldn’t help but think to himself, ‘I’ve never had friends before.’

He smiled at the other kids with an expression bordering on tearful. “Thank you.”

“Really, Mike, don’t worry about it.” Stan waved his hand dismissively before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a firecracker. “Now, what do you say we light some of these off?”

Mike, overwhelmed by the kindness shown, merely nodded his head in response. Stan handed him one of the crackers and gave him another smile.

“You know,” Stan said an hour later as the seven kids (or, as they seemed to refer to themselves as, the Losers) made their way back to the Barrens after they had lit off their last firecracker. “You’re not bad, Mike. I think we’re gonna be great friends.”

Mike gave a small laugh. “You ain’t too bad yourself. I think we’re gonna be great friends too, Stan.”

—

It was less than a minute until the bell rang and Mike couldn’t help but anxiously tap his foot. It still felt weird to him to be attending a public high school after attending a private religious school all his life. He was just glad his parents were understanding enough to let him attend the same high school as the other Losers. Getting to see them every day certainly made dealing with Derry High’s lacking academics more bearable.

The second the shrill sound of the bell pierced through Mike’s thoughts, the boy was grabbing his backpack and heading out the door.

Dodging and weaving his way through the crowd, Mike quickly made his way to locker 819, the locker closest to Mike’s seventh-period class that belongs to a Loser. Of course, it didn’t just belong to any Loser either, no. It belonged to none other than Stan Uris, and that fact could be confirmed by the cut-out image of a baseball taped to the front of the locker with Stan’s name and baseball uniform number written on it in his neat handwriting. All other members of the baseball team had similar images on their lockers as well.

Mike stood in front of his friend’s locker, carefully trying not to get in the way of students hustling to leave school at the end of what felt like a very long day. He stood up on his toes scanned over the tops of student’s heads trying to spot the curly mess that was Stan’s hair that would be coming from his seventh-period biology classroom. At last, the man Mike had been looking for came into view, smiling at his friend.

“Hi, Mike,” Stan says, giving his friend a small wave before turning to open his locker to put away textbooks.

“Stan!” Mike was beaming. “How was biology?”

“About as good as learning about how grand our existentialism can become gets.”

Mike giggled, and after a moment, Stan joined in. After being friends for so long, Mike had slowly adopted Stan’s bizarre sense of humor, much to the other Losers discomfort since they still didn’t understand it.

Once his books had been swapped, Stan closed his locker and he and Mike made their way out of school and to the Barrens to meet up with the other Losers. The two friends strolled along, chatting casually and enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun shining down on them. As they passed by the entrance to Memorial Park, Stan stopped dead in his tracks, grabbing Mike’s arm to get his attention.

“Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike,” Stan whispered in a hushed yet excited breath as he pointed into the park. “Look, look, look.”

Mike followed Stan’s pointing finger and saw a bird at the birdbath located just beyond the gated entrance of the park. He wasn’t much for birds, but Mike did have to admit it was a beautiful creature. It was a striking and bold red in color with a tuff of feathers sticking up on its head, an orange beak, and a black mask over its face. Mike knows he’s seen a bird like this before, but he couldn’t place the name.

“What is it?” He whispered back to Stan, ready for the long explanation and description he was going to be given about the bird. You could hardly ask Stan anything about a bird without being given a whole lecture about it, and that was just one of the many things Mike enjoyed about his friend.

“It’s a cardinal, a male cardinal specifically based on its vibrant coloring, and they’re super rare to see in Derry. I was told a few years ago that there was one that often visited the bath here, but I’ve never actually seen it before…” Stan began to trail off, too caught up in awe of the bird to properly finish his thought.

The two watched the bird as it hopped around the bath for a moment, splashing in the water and ruffling its feathery wings from time to time. After about three minutes, the bird took off, flying across the park and out of their sight. Stan stared after it longingly and Mike couldn’t help but chuckle at him.

“That’s it. It’s been decided.” Stan said firmly after his mind finally returned back to his body.

“What has?”

“My favorite bird. It’s a cardinal. I wanted to be left without a specific breed of bird I was more fond of than the others, but that cardinal was just… stunning, was it not?”

Mike smiled. “It certainly was something.” He nodded his head as he and Stan continued walking.

Stan was quiet for a minute, a small shy smile evident on his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m just still reeling from… this!”

“You’re such a bird nerd.”

“You can say that again, Mike.”

“You’re a bird nerd.”

Stan laughed. “Thank you.”

–

It was a well-known fact that Mike’s home was always welcome to any Losers at any time. It was no secret that most of his friends didn’t have good parents, and Mike’s parents had more than enough love to share to make up for that fact. So when Stan Uris just appeared in Mike’s room, Mike couldn’t really say he was surprised.

“He’s an asshole,” Stan said, flopping down on Mike’s bed.

Mike spun around in his desk chair to face Stan on his bed. “Who?” He asked, already knowing the answer to his rather rhetorical question.

“My dad!” Stan exclaimed, throwing his arm straight up in frustration before dramatically letting them flop back down onto the bed.

Mike stared at his friend for a moment, observing him. He had known Stan for many years now and he knew just how bad his dad could be. As a well-respected member of Derry’s Jewish community, he always expected Stan to follow in his footsteps and become a rabbi like he had. And while Stan was passionate about his beliefs and heritage, Mike knew that Stan also had dreams that differed from that of his father, and that could make family interactions very tense. Mike also knew that Mr. Uris was not shy about playing the ‘I’m disappointed in who you’re becoming’ card on Stan, and Mike couldn’t even imagine how deeply it’d hurt to have to hear those words from one’s parent.

It was blatantly clear from Stan’s demeanor and body language that he was more than just angry about his father. After years of being around him, Mike was able to see through all the hidden chips in Stan’s armor and see just how badly he was hurting within the defenses he’d put up to protect himself. Mike’s heart ached for his friend.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked genuinely, giving his friend a comforting smile to show that he was there to support him and wouldn’t force Stan to talk about anything he wasn’t comfortable with sharing. The other boy was quite comfortable and trusting with Mike, but he knew that sometimes Stan would get so upset that he was shut down and close himself off completely from everyone for a while, and Mike didn’t want to overstep any new boundaries his friend may have established. But Stan just stared at Mike for a second, and in that brief moment, Mike saw the walls his friend put up start to crumble down. Then Stan began to talk. He talked about anything and everything that was in his mind. The pressures his father put on him, the uncertainty of his own future, and the doubt that Stan carried with him at the core of his being. Once he started going, he talked and ranted as fast as the sun was setting outside Mike’s bedroom window, drawing out long shadows across the room as the night crept in.

Mike knew Stan well enough by now that he knew based on how Stan was talking he didn’t want help with his problems. No, he didn’t want solutions, he just wanted to say everything on his mind and have someone listen to and hear what he had to say. And Mike made sure he heard every word of it. He nodded along thoughtfully, keeping all of his attention on his friend who at this moment in time needed to know that someone was there for him, and Mike was determined to make sure Stan knew he was there. Stan didn’t have to be alone. He’d always have Mike by his side whenever he needed him there. “And he’s just so… so…” Stan made an angry gripping motion with his hands, staring at the fists he made with rage and frustration as tears started to form in the corners of his eyes.

“Hey,” Mike said, carefully grabbing his friend’s hands to get him to stop before his nails punctured the skin of his palms and he hurt himself. “It’s alright, Stan, I get what you’re trying to say. Don’t worry about not having the right words now, they’ll come to you when the time is right.”

Stan sighed heavily, slowly relaxing his hands. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He sniffled and Mike’s heart ached.

“No, no, no, no. You don’t need to apologize, Stan, I understand. It feels good to let everything out, but you don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Stan pulled his hand from Mike’s. “Yeah, I don’t want to hurt myself either. He just makes my life miserable.” Stan forced out an awkward and uncomfortable laugh to cover up the pained sob that was threatening to spill. “It’s probably time for me to calm down now. This is getting too emotional.”

Mike understood immediately that Stan was done being vulnerable for the time being. He had a lot of insecurities, it was just who he was, and he often times wasn’t comfortable with so openly expressing his emotions.

“Of course.” Mike nodded, turning his desk chair back around to his desk to grab a pad of paper and a pen. “Wanna draw some birds?” He asked.

Stan smiled, taking the paper and pen from Mike’s hands gratefully. No one was ignorant to the fact Stan liked birds, or even the fact that he loved drawing the birds he’s seen in his bird book, but only a few people knew was that the number one way to get Stan to calm down and to relax when he was upset was by drawing birds. The boy just gets so swept up in meticulously replicating the intricate design and details of birds, that all his worries vanish from his mind, even if it is only for a few hours.

So there the two boys sat, tucked away from the vileness of the outside world in the safety of Mike’s room, hidden from sight in the cloak of the night as they drew. Stan laying on his stomach on Mike’s bed, carefully making sure each and every part of his drawing was beautifully accurate towards the real thing, while Mike awkwardly drew blobs with a beak, talons, and wings at his desk. Mike never really was one for drawing, but he would do anything to help his friend feel better, even if the act alone held no interest to him.

Seconds passed quickly, becoming minutes which accumulated into hours, and before either boy noticed, it was two in the morning. They had spent the night talking and drawing, and now they both struggled to keep their eyes open.

“Stan,” Mike whined, flopping down on the bed next to him. “I’m so tired.”

Stan’s small chuckle quickly turned into a yawn. “It is late. I should probably head home.”

“No!” Mike rolled over onto Stan. “Don’t go home yet to your asshole dad. Stay the night, we can have a sleepover.”

Stan gave a choked cough from under Mike. “If I agree will you get off of me?”

“Oh shit. Sorry, Stan.” Mike laughed, rolling off of his friend. “What do you say though?”

Stan quieted, pretending to ponder the offer though they both knew there was no way Stan would choose going home over staying the night with his best friend.

“You know what? Sure.” Stan finally said, and Mike beamed at him happily before scrambling off his bed to pull his sleeping bag out from his closet for Stan.

After watching Mike rush around his room, gathering things for him so he’d be comfortable overnight, Stan got up and helped his friend set up sleeping arrangements for the night. Once the bag was comfortably arranged on the floor with one of Mike’s spare pillows and an extra blanket since Stan always got cold during the night, the two friends gave each other proud smiles before settling down for the evening.

“Need anything else before I turn out the lights?” Mike asked after they both got situated in their respective beds.

“No, I’m good. And thanks for everything tonight, Mike. Thanks for being their and listening and helping. It really means a lot to me.”

Mike chuckled a bit. “Of course. What else are friends for?”

Stan was quiet for a minute, before shifting over to dig through the pockets of the jacket he had discarded when they got ready for bed. At last, he pulled out one of the drawings he did earlier and handed it to Mike. “Here. I know it’s nothing great, but think of it as a symbol of my appreciation and gratitude and friendship.” He gave a shy smile.

Mike took the page, looking at the drawing printed on its surface. It was a cardinal with its wings spread gracefully in flight. It was beautiful. It was also personal, Mike realized when thinking over how cardinals were Stan’s favorite bird.

“Thank you, Stan. It’s wonderful.” The look he gave Stan was full of love, joy, and appreciation. It was also clear he was trying not to tear up at the small yet meaningful gift.

“Don’t you dare cry on me, Mike Hanlon, cause if you do, I’ll cry,” Stan said, blinking quickly to prevent any tears from building up.

“I can’t make any promises, Stanley Uris.”

“I figured not.”

“Love you, Stan.”

“Love you too, Mike.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Mike clicked the lamp off.

—

“And with this mostly useless piece of paper you’ve given us all here today, Derry High, I must say to you, thank you. For four unpleasant years. And to another four at college, here here, folks!” Richie cheered, throwing his graduation cap up into the air as the crowd gave him a confused yet energetic round of applause. Mike laughed as the principal rushed across the stage to herd Richie off who only just laughed and made faces at the crowd. Ben, who was arranged to sit right next to Mike due to the closeness of their last names, gave him a bone crushing hug after they all had thrown their caps in the air, following Richie’s poor example. Students quickly began to leave their seats in the center of the gymnasium and make their way outside where they could meet up with their families once again. Mike and Ben, however, got out of everyone’s way once outside, heading off school campus over towards the designated spot the Losers had picked out in advance to meet up at after the graduation ceremony had ended. The two boys saw, as they approached, that Stan and Beverly were already there waiting for them. As soon as they arrived, Bev quickly went to hug Ben and Mike. Stan looked on, smiling happily for a moment before Bev dragged him over to join in on their group hug. “Some valedictorian speech Richie gave there, eh?” Mike asked Stan with a chuckle once Bev let them go to sprint over towards Bill who she spotted making his way over towards them. Stan laughed. “I do suppose that is one way to give an important speech. To give Richie props, it’ll definitely be something we remember for the rest of our lives.”

“You can say that again.”

Beverly made her way back over to them with Bill in tow and a recently found Richie and Eddie not far behind. The seven friends, finally reunited, cheered, celebrating their graduation from high school.

“Wait, wait, wait, Mike,” Richie said, smiling at him. “You got your camera with you?” Mike smiled, taking out the Polaroid camera he had attached to a strap that hung around his neck. His parents wanted him to take pictures of his graduation, so he had to sneak his camera in under his graduation gown.

The Losers quickly scrambled to strike a pose as Mike set up his camera for a group photo. After setting the timer, he quickly rushed over and threw his arm over Stan’s shoulders, smiling. The camera flashed and Richie cheered again, reaching over to ruffle Eddie’s hair as the Losers started to disperse.

Mike went over to grab the photo that came out and Stan followed after him.

“So, staying in Derry, Mike?” Stan asked.

Mike looked up from the image he held in his hands. “Oh, yeah. Can’t really afford to go out of state, and you know what they say: no place like home. What about you?”

“Heading to New York State. Nice university. No offense, Mike, but I’m glad to finally be getting out of here and away from my dad.” Stan frowned slightly at the thought of his father, before returning the small smile Mike gave him. “Well, you’re going to be missed here, Stan.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Stan quickly embraced his friend. “You better keep in contact with me, Mike.”

“I will. And you better not forget me, Stan. I know you’re leaving and will undoubtedly move on to bigger and greater things, things grander than what this small town can offer, but don’t forget to look back and remember your good ol’ childhood friend, alright now?”

“I won’t, Mike, don’t worry. Jeez, you sound like my mom. Want me to write you every week too?”

“Yes, that would be preferable.”

Stan laughed and Mike gave him a joyful smile back. “Every week then. And you better write me back every week too then, Mike.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

—

And it had been a plan, Mike remembers. A plan that had started off rather well. One week after Stan had left for university, Mike had received a postcard from him that he quickly responded too. The two had gleefully exchanged cards every week, and on rare occasions, they’d even call each other on the phone. Mike had kept every card he’d been given by Stan in a small box of keepsakes hidden safely under his bed, and his pile within it continued to grow regularly. But as time had passed, the postcards would start coming later and later from Stan, until one day, Mike never got a response from him.

Mike couldn’t say he was surprised when he realized he wouldn’t hear from Stan again until the day when he might have needed to call him and all the other Losers back to Derry. He knew that the Losers who’d left were destined to forget about their hometown, childhood, and friends, though that didn’t stop it from hurting when Stan had finally forgotten him.

As Mike sat at the edge of his bed, the box of keepsakes in hand, he couldn’t help but think about what he’d been told about Stan’s fate. Reports state that after receiving a call from a friend, Stan had excused himself to go take a bath, and when his wife had gone up to check on him mere minutes later, he was found dead in his bathtub, wrists slit.

Mike knew without a single shred of a doubt that he had been that friend that called Stan right before his death, and even though he knew Stan would never blame him, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Guilty that he might have driven his friend to do such an extreme thing after he reminded him of a promise he had made nearly three decades ago. A promise to fight an ancient evil that had nearly killed them all before. An evil that wanted another attempt at killing them. And before It had even gotten Its attempt in, Stan was gone.

Mike bite his lip as he tried to control the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He knew that there would be time to grieve later, plenty of time assuming he was able to live through Round Two with It, and Mike knew that this final fight had to be his main priority. But this fight could also wait a damn hour, long enough for Mike to feel what he needed to feel after learning about his friend’s death.

Taking a deep breath and sniffling a bit, Mike opened the box.

His box of keepsakes was hardly something he even really went through. Most times when it was opened, it was just because Mike had something else he wanted to add to it by throwing it on top of the pile. This meant everything within the box was in reverse chronological order from the top down. This meant that the last letter from Stan was the first thing he saw. The sight of it felt like a knife had been plunged deep into his soul.

It had been evident by this point that Stan had almost completely forgotten who Mike was. The mood of the letter was hesitant and uncertain like he no longer knew how to properly interact with his friend. It was kept formal in tone, and all inside jokes that the two thoughtful weaved into their messages had been scrubbed clean from the words staining the card. The note was brief and to the point, lacking any new personal life details that they usually included, as if Stan was no longer comfortable with sharing with him. Almost like Mike was a complete stranger to him.He supposed at that point, he pretty much was.

Mike took a few breaths to control his breathing that had become slightly more erratic as the knife he had been hit with twisted inside of him. He knew this would hurt, but it appears he had underestimated just how much it would.

The gently lifted the card out of the box, setting it down next to him as he began to look through everything else within it.

Most of them were postcards from Stan, especially towards the top since mail deliveries were all he had gotten from Losers once they moved off out of state to college and beyond. No more little hand-made personal gifts, and small objects of sentiment that represented a shared moment of intimacy between him and another one of the Losers. And the last picture he had of all of them together was taken right after the graduation ceremony. Mike tried to ignore the part of him that stated that this was the last image of all seven of them together, alive and well, that would ever be taken ever, even if that part of him was correct.

Seven had become six.

And no matter how painful that thought was, nothing would ever change it.

As Mike continued to sift through letters and other miscellaneous items within the box, he noticed the familiar look of the page at the bottom, underneath everything.

He pulled out the piece of paper and stared at the drawing.

Stan’s cardinal was just as beautiful as he always remembered it being. Despite the fact that it had nearly been twenty-five years since it was drawn, the picture was still in incredible condition. No tears in the paper, no smudged or fading lines within the drawing, nothing. Nada. It hit Mike strongest with the memories he and Stan had shared. For a brief moment, it felt like he was back in that night, staring at the newly acquired image before turning his lamp out for the evening. He remembered what he thought when he was given the drawing.

‘Stan and his birds.

He truly is amazing, isn’t he?’

Mike stopped fighting the tears and wept.

—

Memorial Park was just as dead as the rest of Derry was. The entire town had died right along with It, and as painful as it may have been for Mike to say, he missed his hometown. Everything he had grown up knowing and loving was destroyed and gone, leaving Derry almost completely unrecognizable. When Mike had first seen the little remains of downtown Derry once he was released from the hospital after he had been attacked by Henry, he certainly wouldn’t have guessed it was the same town he had always known.

Memorial Park was, only the surface level, the least destroyed place left in Derry. Mike supposed it was rather hard for an entire park to be destroyed in comparison to a building that could easily crumble and topple, but the influence of Its death was still evident. Trees lost their leaves, the grass was turning brown, and the sidewalks throughout the piece of land were crumbling. Mike still found it hard to believe that the life of Derry was tied to the murderous spirit that preyed off the people that lived in the town.

Mike limped carefully down one of the paths of the park, being careful of the wound on his leg that was still healing. He didn’t know why, but he had been overcoming with the desire to go out on a walk to Memorial Park, and after all he had been through, Mike was not going to ignore any instinctual feeling that came to him. After all, he owed everything he had in his life to said feeling. Even if everything he had in his life was now almost completely gone; either destroyed or being slowly wiped from his mind until nothing was left.

After a bit of walking, Mike’s injury started to throb painfully and he was forced to sit down at one of the park’s few remaining benches for a minute to rest. The day was warm and surprisingly calm despite the destruction that plagued the town. There weren’t many people out and about, probably due to the current dangers of being outside, but Mike did notice a few other individuals mulling around the park like he was. He sighed contently, trying to enjoy the day as much as he could.

Life was going to be hard over the next couple of months, Mike came to realize. Between having to find a new job since the library was demolished, to having to find a new home since his house was gone, to just overall having to start a new life in a new city since Derry was dead, there was a lot to do. Mike knew he was also going to become a new person once he finally started over someplace else. He would no longer be a librarian, a lighthouse keeper, a historian, a Loser. All of those sides of him that Mike associated with his childhood friends were going to be cleansed from his mind alongside them. He was already having difficulty remembering what buildings Ben had designed, what books Bill had written, what the style the clothes Beverly designed were, and how many Voices Richie had. He remembered even less about Eddie since his passing, and Mike was pained to admit that he could only remember very few details about Stan. He remembered he was Jewish, married, lived in the south, didn’t get along with his dad, and that he was Mike’s greatest friend. Most other facts and tidbits about him had already slipped from his mind.

It wouldn’t be long, Mike thought, until the rest was gone too.

Mike’s train of thought was interrupted by the flutter of wings and a flash of red. Quickly looking up, he noticed a male cardinal, a brilliant red in color, resting out on one of the barren branches of a tree in front of Mike, with its black eyes trained on him. When he laid his eyes upon the bird, Mike was hit with a sudden memory so strong that Mike was left lightheaded and reeling. Cardinals were Stan’s favorite bird. How could he have ever forgotten?

Mike remembers the first time he and Stan had seen a cardinal together when they were barely even teens. He remembers the night Stan had come to him, drawn a cardinal, and given it to him forever. He remembers rediscovering that drawing buried under memories in his box of keepsakes right after he was informed of Stan’s passing. He remembers the knife of grief he felt when he had looked back at the picture. He can still feel that pain as intensely as if it had just happened.

He also remembers an old memory, buried deep within his mind. He doesn’t recall from when or where it came from, and the memory itself is covered in dust, long forgotten, but it still returns to him.

“Did you know,” Stanley Uris had once said to him, “cardinals represent the fire of life that is said to burn within our souls, even in the darkest of time. Fascinating, isn’t it, Mike?”

“It sure is.” Mike had nodded in response. “It sure is fascinating.”

Mike thinks about what Stan had said to him as he stared at the small bird that in returned stared right back at him.This small red bird was meant to represent life, burning brightly in even the blackest of nights. Mike knew it was no coincidence then that this bird also reminded him of Stan. Someone who was there for him, who’d stay by him in dark times. He remembers now how fearlessly Stan had stood up for him during the Apocalyptic Rock War against Henry Bowers and his gang of goons. He had also saved him and the other Losers when they had fought It when they were kids. He was always there in the darkest times. He was always that spark of life that kept things lively and bright and hopeful. Stan was a cardinal.

And Mike realized that even if Stan passed on, and even if Mike forgot him, he’d never truly be gone. Part of Stan was right in front of Mike, staring at him, watching over him.

The red bird turned, spreading its wings and taking flight. Mike watched it go for a moment, wondering why that bird was so important to him as his thoughts of Stan once again disappeared from his mind.

Mike decided at that moment that cardinals were his favorite bird.

Something about them just made him feel warm inside. Safe. Protected. Loved.

Whenever Mike encountered the colorful bird from then on, he would always get the faint feeling that he had forgotten something.

Something important.

Someone important.

#stanlon #mike hanlon #stan uris #the losers club #it movie 2017 #it stephen king #it secret santa

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itdisneymatter · 7 years

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Day 05 - Islands of Adventure

TLDR: Islands Of Adventure, the first of the Universal Parks. Waited longer than expected to get in the park, though kicked off with a bang once we did. Harry Potter world essentials including Forbidden Journey & Dragon Challenge. First time on this coaster and it was brilliant. Butterbeer done, nom. Jurassic Park River Ride, got wet, The Hulk, got scared then Spidey to finish. Rain again. Home, Ready, Steaks!

The most important meal of the day

No breakfast again right? WRONG Suckas! :P (sorry come back, I was kidding). We stocked up on cereal and little mini crullers the night before, so we were able to grab a wee bite prior to heading to the park. It made such a difference and I think well always make sure we have something in, however small, if we have to leave early doors in future (though I think the second week is a week of late starts and fireworks party's so that should be fine).

As we approached the entrance, across the lake between both parks, sat a huge factory, spewing white smoke from its enormous chimneys. It was the new Chocolate Emporium! It was the stuff dreams are made of and looked exactly like something out of Willy Wonka. The thing is, weve booked this delightful place for Patricks birthday in Friday, so excitement levels just got turned up a notched (oh happy birthday Patrick, btw). Heres a pic from my phone:

Prior to entering the park proper, which was absolutely jam-packed today, we had to upgrade our tickets to include Volcano Bay, as we bought the original tickets prior to the park opening. An HOUR after arriving (after queues for security and bag check and then guest services), we finally get to the desk. We confirm a rumour that Volcano Bay is at capacity at opening! Whaaaat? Y'see the Universal hotel guests are allowed to enter the park early and that together with the popularity of a new water park and the inevitable queueing carnage that ensues, means that were likely not going to be making a morning visit any time soon. Well not unless we start queueing at apparently 7:30 for a 10:00am start! Eeek. Well definitely need to revise the schedule for tomorrow.

One thing we get at Universal is the refillable Coca-cola cups, and today was no exception, especially as there were 15 of us. For about 12 bucks you can have a huge cup and refill it throughout the park at special stations as many times as you want. Hundreds of varieties so Its a no brainer really.

Our plan of action for today was hit Harry Potter as soon as possible, then go around the park, as it was due to rain again, late afternoon. And due to this, the initial plan of buying interactive wands and doing all of the extra special/magical stuff would have to wait for another day. That being said, we kicked off with one for the kids, the Caro-seuss-sel in Seuss Landing. Nice light one, before subjecting them to Death Eaters, Dementors & Dragons (oh my).

And now it's time for Patrick's Fun Fact Of The Day, brought to you by Patrick, today. Here it is...

The word NERD was invented by Dr. Seuss.

Even after all this time? Always.

So we left the rest of the Seuss rides, fun though they are, bypassed The Lost Continent area and entered Hogsmeade. Right at the back of the snow topped village lies The Forbidden Journey - my most favourite ride. This visit was extra special for us, it was the first time Gracie was tall enough to ride it! It was just as amazing and awe-inspiring as before and not for the first time, used the benefits of Child Swap to ride it again. Grace was left feeling a little overwhelmed by the whole thing though and wasn't quite expecting the sharp twists and turns so didnt seem to be as an enjoyable experience for her, which was a shame. Im sure another go on a return trip may well persuade her.

Alessio, who wasn't quite tall enough for Forbidden Journey went with as few others on to Flight Of The Hippogriff, a little coaster designed for younger kids. Gracie just HAD to go to the toilet then though, so we missed out on the chance to ride it (although the dialogue from Moaning Myrtle in the toilet almost made up for it).

As there were a few older folk among us, there was a decision to ride the Roller Coaster at Hogsmeade - The Dragon Challenge. Kevin, Michael, Sarah Jane, Corrie Robert & Myself were up for the challenge. Emily really wanted to go on to, but she was just under the height restrictions (which they are very strict about adhering to). Formally known as the Dueling Dragons, this inverted roller coaster allows you to choose between the Red Chinese Fireball or the Blue Hungarian Horntail. Robert pointed out that it was the Horntail who Harry faced off with in the Goblet of Fire, so we went with that. It. was .awesome. Fast paced, with loads of twists and turns and a loop thrown in for good measure. Really really good and Id have went on again if time was permitting. Robert loved it too, and it started him on a very long conversation with Michael about the other Coaster in the park - The Hulk!

We grabbed some Butterbeer (standard) and left in the direction of Jurassic Park. Apart from the many photo spots along the way, the main star of this land was the River Adventure. A water ride with a big t-rex and bigger drop right at the end. Really fun and wet - everyone loved it. The last time we were here, they were constructing a new ride in the Jurassic Park Area, and this time around it was fully completed and open - The Reign Of Kong, a new 3D action thrill ride. Wait times for this were through the roof, due to it being really new (I think it had been open only a matter of weeks, so was to be expected). A jungle ride through a huge temple or cavern (possibly, I haven't seen the new movie yet, but I suppose like many others, it will be one of the first I go to see back home, all thanks to this ride). The 3D effects were next level, huge 360 degree expanses all amazingly detailed - it really felt like you were somewhere else!!! I was lucky enough to visit Orlando when I was young and can remember the first King Kong ride, the difference in special effects and technology are astounding. I can understand why its so popular. 10/10.

You wont like me when I'm angry!

The final area of the park we hit around mid afternoon. And the one we (well Robert) had all been waiting for - The Hulk Roller Coaster. You can see this towering over the park as you enter, and I've always wanted to try it out, but previous circumstances didn't allow that to happen. This time however, our trusty group who rode together on The Dragon Challenge would once again reunite one final time! :P Although similar in size and complexity Robert, who didn't shut up about going on The Hulk all day, now receded slightly, and started panicking a little. Michael, the only one of us who had rode it before, reassured him if he could do one, he could do them all! And with that, we boarded. And it was FAST, much faster than the Dragons. From the minute it started its initial ascent, we were gripping to our harness through every turn, drop and loop. It was even more amazing than the Harry Potter one and was so glad I got a change to ride it. However, I cant take anything from Robert he was a trooper and was all chuffed than he managed to do two roller coasters today!

After an amazing day, we decided to end it with Spiderman. I'd been on this one before, so didnt expect much after the epicness of the last ride, but I was waaay wrong! Ive said it before but no matter how many times you go on these rides, they still astound and amaze. And Spiderman so much so, that I went on it a second time, through the magic known as child swap ;) This appeared to be one of Graces favourites as she also wanted a second go and was screaming and shoutiing in excitement all throughout.

And after we finished what did we get? Rain! Not anywhere near as heavy as the previous day, but just enough that it confirmed the decision to head to the car and get home. So home we went.

After seeing an offer for Outback Steakhouse for Wednesday night, we thought it would be nice for us all to try it out tonight. This would be the first time all 15 of us were going for dinner together, so Ann had called ahead to reserve some tables as best she could earlier in the day. Most eateries around the area do have specific bookings but when we go to the hotel then had prepared a nice long table for us all. Not only did they have really nice steaks on offer, and a bloomin' onion (a full battered onion), they also had Crab - the thing Gracie had been waiting for all holiday!!! Both myself and Ann option for sirloin with a half pound each of Crab legs. Now I like my seafood, as does Ann, but Gracie is a seafood monster, so she opted to share our meals instead of getting her own. I’m not entirely sure you could call it sharing however as she ended up with most of it - well at least I can say that the steak was nice XD

Today has been the first day I’ve felt a little tired (even with the 5hr energy shots), so today’s entry may not have been the most in depth or attentive one I’ve written, soz. At least tomorrow we have a later start but with the Volcano Bay issues, were not entirely sure whats going to happen...

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